


A Sanctuary of Friends

by ProPinkist



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: (read the books; they're better :') at least for the most part), Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, The Austere Academy, and this archive needs more gen fic, but Netflix-only people should know that the Quagmires have much more... character in TAA book, like desperately so, my kids suffer so much and deserve lots of hugs and care OTL, the whole series is based around broken families and siblings; give me more gen!!!, this is based in book verse/characterization but I'll put it in the TV tag too anyway, written for a friend's birthday <3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 17:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14525598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProPinkist/pseuds/ProPinkist
Summary: In the midst of the chaos at Prufrock Prep, the Baudelaires are overcome with the feeling of what it's like to have friends, who would put the three of them before themselves, and willingly follow them into the life of misery that they now eternally lead.





	A Sanctuary of Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, I feel so nervous even touching this series, as special as it is to me and so many others; I'm afraid of not doing justice to something so important and wonderful. But the Netflix show has made me dive back into and become obsessed with ASOUE after probably 12 or so years, and given me lots of inspiration for it as I reread the books, which is the most amazing feeling ever. The show is great in its own right, but the book tone and fleshed-out scenes and characterizations are what I prefer much more (mostly; there are exceptions), so I wrote this with Austere Academy the book in mind, though I like how the Quagmires put together their disguises in the Netflix version so I did use those details. ...It wasn't my intention to write in Lemony's style, but for some reason it became impossible to not lean into it at least a little bit as I was writing (does anyone else find this happening to them lol), so that's a thing too lol. Enjoy...? Even though there's no happy ending not here and not now and we all know it. < / 3

Violet focused her tired eyes on the spoon of flour she was holding, and knew that her hand was not shaking just from exhaustion.

She, her siblings, and the Quagmire triplets were sitting in the Orphans Shack, working on putting together the items the Quagmires needed to disguise themselves as them and run in their shoes, figuratively and literally. After gathering the materials during lunch, they had skipped most of dinner in order to have enough time before S.O.R.E. began, wolfing down their food as quickly as possible, which normally is not advisable or pleasant, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Isadora was gluing together tiny strips of brown fabric on a band in a fringe arrangement, to put on her forehead and give herself Violet’s bangs, Sunny was biting metal rods they had found in the cafeteria kitchen into the shape of glasses for Duncan so that Klaus wouldn’t have to sacrifice his own (heaven knew that having his glasses taken away was something that would probably make him all too uncomfortable right now, after their last place of residence), and she, Klaus, and Duncan were working on building the rolling dummy that would pass as Sunny in the dark, pulled by one of them with the string taken from the bag of flour they were using for this. Sunny was stomping her little feet with her noisy shoes while she worked, which was loud enough to keep the crabs away but soft enough that they could still focus.

Focusing was still a difficult thing, however, and just like Violet knew that her trembling wasn’t just from how tired she was, she knew that her inability to completely focus wasn’t only from her sleepiness, or the noise, although those were still factors. Rather, it was because of what she was thinking, and mulling over, and worrying about, and trying to calculate, even though it was impossible to calculate odds for something such as this. But even without being able to calculate odds, she knew one thing, and that was that they never got lucky, and she could guess their odds of success purely based on that undeniable fact alone.

In short, what was distracting Violet was fear; crippling, inevitable, impossible to ignore fear. She knew her siblings were feeling that same fear as well, knowing them well enough to be able to tell simply by looking at them. The worst part was, though, that despite everything horrible that they had already been through, this was a different kind of fear than the one they felt most often: a kind that they had only recently begun to feel two guardians ago, but even then, they hadn’t truly had enough time to notice before it was all over. But even worse than that, though, was the knowledge that the Baudelaires had no choice but to deal with it and hope for the best. They hadn’t had many real choices for a long time now, and even if things somehow, miraculously, impossibly turned out all right in the end, right now, they didn’t know if it would, and they simply had to deal with their fear, because there was no other choice.

But eventually, Violet couldn’t take it any longer.

“Violet? Are you all right?” Isadora was watching her, her expression concerned but her voice gentle, and Violet looked up at her weakly.

“…I… I’m scared.” She put down her tools awkwardly, not caring that some flour had spilled onto her legs where she was sitting, and reached up to touch her face, which was damp with sudden tears. The Quagmires still looked worried, but when she looked at Klaus and Sunny, their faces told her that they were sharing her exact same thoughts.

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Duncan said reassuringly, giving her a comforting smile. “You’ll be fine; everything will be—”

“There _is_ something to be scared of, there’s _everything to be scared of…!”_ Violet cried, interrupting him. A small part of her, in her delirious, exhausted mind, was irritated at the Quagmires for acting as if they could possibly understand all of their emotions, and trying to insist that they had nothing to be afraid of, seemingly completely oblivious to what scared them the most. But then she hated herself for it. The triplets might not have been bounced from unsuccessful guardian to unsuccessful guardian, been chased by a scheming madman intent on stealing their fortune everywhere they went, and not been believed by anyone they tried to tell that Count Olaf was nearby in disguise, but they _had_ also lost their parents, along with their sibling, and all of their possessions in a fire, and had had to suffer the Orphans Shack like they did now, as well as still Carmelita Spats and all of Prufrock Prep’s ridiculous rules, so they understood how they felt in a lot of ways, and were certainly still scared for their own reasons. She didn’t want them to think that they were ungrateful, because, on the contrary, they were more grateful than any of the Baudelaires could ever put into words. But that was why she was so upset, and why she almost wished that there wasn’t a need for them to feel so grateful, because it would mean this wasn’t happening, for the Quagmires’ own sakes. How could they make them understand what they were afraid of even more than Count Olaf getting his hands on themselves?

“Kasha.” Sunny had stopped stomping and put down her fake glasses, moving close to her and rubbing her knee empathetically, and then had turned to the Quagmires and spoken. Violet could only let out a choked sob, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle it, and couldn’t bring herself to translate what her sister had said: _“We’re scared of sending you to your doom.”_

For that was the other fear the Baudelaires were now growing quite accustomed to, what they feared most of all: the fear of the few good people they could cling to being sucked into their spiral of misfortune with Count Olaf, and being killed by him.

“…How… Why are you doing all this for us? How can you put yourself in such danger for people you just met?”

Klaus had spoken next, seemingly also having decided to not translate for Sunny, his voice as watery as hers had become as he took his glasses off and pinched his tired eyes, his own tools set aside. He was on the verge of crying as well, and the Quagmires gazed at all three of them, helpless.

“…You all were the first people at Prufrock Prep who weren’t mean to us just for being orphans,” Isadora said quietly, and her voiced cracked slightly as she spoke, which her brother seemed to notice, reaching out and holding her hand. “Practically everyone else in the school are Carmelita’s underlings or are too nervous to speak out against her or do something she wouldn’t like, so we were always bullied, and never had any friends. …I feel terrible for saying this, and please don’t take it the wrong way… but we’re glad you came… Y-You’re the only people we’ve had since our parents and Quigley died.”

“She’s right,” Duncan replied, hugging his sister as she cried, his own composure threatening to break, their tasks forgotten. “None of us have any family, so we’ve got to stick together. We’ll do this so you can stay at Prufrock Prep, and thwart any other plans Count Olaf may try, and then when we’re old enough to graduate, we’ll start that printing company like we decided.”

He paused to wipe his eyes, taking in a shaky breath, perhaps to hide how scared he and Isadora very much were, even if they were doing their best to convince the Baudelaires, and themselves, otherwise.

“…What are friends for, right?”

The Baudelaires stared at their friends, and all three of them were once again struck by the notion that the triplets should be more afraid and more uncertain than they were, shouldn’t have been able to talk of succeeding escaping Count Olaf so easily when their own prism of experience told them how unlikely to happen and difficult that was. But in the moment, much, much stronger than that thought, was the overwhelming feeling of what it felt like to have friends again, people who cared about them and would do anything to keep them safe and happy, and who believed them without question, which none of their guardians so far had been able or willing to do, no matter how kind some of them had been. People who had been through what they had, in the same way, and had the same grief and loss in their hearts, which could never, ever truly be filled.

It was more than they could bear.

“……Count Olaf w-will stop at nothing to get us, even if it means committing _unspeakably_ cruel murders, and he could do the same to you if he decides you’re in his way,” Violet whispered, the memories that haunted her nightmares returning to her once more as she wept, as she tried to explain why they were so afraid for them. “He k-killed Uncle Monty with his _own_ sample of snake venom, on the morning that we were supposed to travel to Peru with him, while Count Olaf was disguised as his assistant. We found Uncle Monty in his reptile room, and h-he… he was _cold_ and looked scared and surprised and no longer smiling that w-wonderful smile, and I-I can’t even _imagine_ how he felt as he… as he was killed in such a _horrible_ way…!”

“He pushed Aunt Josephine off the boat he rescued us from Lake Lachrymose on, while disguised as a sailboat captain,” Klaus murmured, his voice broken. “We _already_ thought he had pushed her out the window of her h-house earlier to drown in the water below, but we found her hidden in Curdled Cave, safe and sound… until we tried to sail back to shore and were attacked by the Lachrymose leeches, and Count Olaf rescued us only to push Aunt Josephine into the lake with the leeches, so that she was e-eaten… b-by them…”

“Woeler,” Sunny muttered, little tears in her eyes as well, which meant “And Count Olaf’s schemes to get us at Lucky Smells Lumbermill nearly led to Charles being sliced into a million terrible pieces like Dr. Orwell, and although he didn’t help us as much as we would have liked, he was always kind to us and did help us in small ways, and wouldn’t have deserved such a fate.”

The Quagmires looked at the three of them sadly, not saying anything, and as she cried, Violet felt guilty that she couldn’t stop, that she had finally broken down like this when she was supposed to be the oldest and thus the strongest for all of them, including the triplets. As Klaus cried, he felt guilty for trying to scare their friends into forfeiting the plan for their own safety, when he knew that they were unlikely to give up and so they were only frightening them more about the danger. And as Sunny cried, she missed all of their previous loved ones that they had been unable to save, and felt guilty that they were willingly putting their friends in this same danger that they had tried to keep Uncle Monty and Aunt Josephine out of, and prayed that, for once, they would all get lucky and the Quagmires would be safe.

Duncan finally looked down at his lap, at the pile of items on the floor, and then he slowly reached out to take Klaus’ hand, who was nearest to him. Isadora reached out and took Violet’s, who was nearest to her, and both of the triplets reached out with their inner hands (inner in this case referring to the ones not forming the kind of circle with the older two Baudelaires) and pat Sunny gently on the head.

“…Of course, we are scared, after e-everything you’ve told us about him,” Duncan admitted quietly, his voice trembling just a little. “…And maybe we’re foolish for having as much faith in this as we do, and I wish we didn’t have to make you afraid for us while we attempted this. ……But you’ve been afraid for much, much longer, and much more than we have, haven’t you, Baudelaires? I know you were afraid when you lost your home and your parents, just like we were. But you were also afraid when you had to live with Count Olaf in his horrible home with his horrible parenting and his horrible friends, and when Sunny was threatened, and when you had to figure out how to keep him from marrying Violet and getting ahold of your fortune.”

“And you were afraid when he showed up at your Uncle Monty’s house in disguise, and you couldn’t tell him who he was before Count Olaf took his life, and you had to prove to Mr. Poe that he did it so that you wouldn’t fall into his clutches,” Isadora added, her voice pained and sorrowful. “You were afraid when Count Olaf showed up to your Aunt Josephine in disguise, and when you thought he had killed her, and when you sailed across a lake in a hurricane to rescue her, and of course when he pushed her off the boat and you almost ended up with him once again.”

“And you were afraid at that lumbermill when he showed up yet again, and caused Klaus to be hypnotized with the help of Doctor Orwell, and you had to figure out how to get him back to normal when Charles was nearly killed, and Count Olaf would have gotten ahold of you if he had. And of course, you were afraid ten days ago, when he showed up to torture you once more, and when you had to go to see him at night and didn’t know what he was planning, and when Nero told you what would happen if you failed tomorrow’s academic and secretarial exams just this morning.” Duncan blinked his eyes, as if trying to stop his silent tears, and he squeezed Klaus’ hand tightly, giving the three of them a bittersweet smile. “……You have been very scared for a very, very long time, Baudelaires. But that didn’t stop you from making it this far, did it? That’s why, as well as to thank you for being our friends… it’s only fair to let us take some of the fear for once, off your shoulders, and do what you’ve been doing this entire time for just one night.”

_“Scared of Count Olaf we may be, it’s true, but greater is the fear of losing you.”_

Isadora’s poem rang out throughout the small, lonely, quiet, shack, as the Baudelaires continued to stare at the Quagmires and processed their words, their eyes wide and tears still staining their cheeks. They could not manage to speak, could only make small sounds of distress, as Violet was reminded of the similar speech she had given Aunt Josephine when they had tried to convince her to leave the cave with them, about how afraid they had been while still pushing onward. More than any of the rest, Isadora’s couplet kept repeating in their minds, and the Baudelaires finally realized the truth: the Quagmires were just as afraid of losing them as they were of losing the Quagmires.

Violet was finally the first to react, to make herself move, as she suddenly flung herself forward and her arms around the girl’s neck in a desperate hug, all thoughts of keeping her composure together gone. The female Quagmire let out a small “ah!” in surprise, but after a moment her eyes gazed down at the back of the oldest Baudelaire as Violet wept into her shoulder, and Isadora returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around her gently and letting her own tears flow more as she held her friend. Almost in tandem, Klaus found himself hugging Duncan, who also returned the hug, the both of them as emotional as their sisters were. Sunny crawled in between the two triplets and leaned against Isadora, biting her skirt gently enough to not tear it, as Isadora reached her right arm down off of Violet and lovingly rubbed the youngest Baudelaire on her back.

“……Your uncle, Montgomery Montgomery, sounds like he was an amazing person,” Duncan, the first to speak after much time had passed, said sadly, and wistfully. “I wish I could have met him, and learned about all of his reptiles, and all the places he’d been to.”

“He was more than amazing; he was _brilliant_ ,” Klaus replied, his voice high-pitched and thick with emotion as he cried. “He was kind, and caring, and smart, and lively, and fun… a-and deserved anything but _that._ …I miss him, _s-so_ much.”

“I wish I could have met your Aunt Josephine,” Isadora said mournfully, sighing. “Learning about grammar all the time does sound sort of boring, but I think maybe she could have given me more ideas for poems; if she liked grammar, surely she liked books, too. She probably had so many amazing stories to tell about when she was younger and more fearless. And Lake Lachrymose sounds like a lovely place to visit, when it’s not the off-season.”

“She was kind, too; she gave us presents when we first arrived,” Violet sobbed, her thoughts shifting between Aunt Josephine and Uncle Monty and making her all the more upset. “She was frustrating, with how scared of everything she was, but if we’d had a chance, we could have helped her not be so anxious, little by little. And she tried to stand up for us and fight back at Count Olaf in the end, despite all her fears. She didn’t deserve to die. …Neither of them did.”

“Shivo,” Sunny said softly, and Klaus spoke for her: “I wish you could have met both of them, somehow, in a world where we could have stayed with one of them but still met you.”

Of course, the ideal world was one where they still had their parents, and still knew all the others. But if they couldn’t have that, then living with either their uncle or aunt still was all they could have asked for.

But none of it was meant to be, thanks to Count Olaf. Nothing they wanted was.

“……I wish you could have m-met Quigley,” Duncan finally replied, his voice cracking. “He would have loved you all, I know. …As would our parents.” Isadora hummed weakly and nodded in agreement. “They were brave, and kind, and… always were willing to help those in need.”

“Just like you, then,” Violet said softly, feeling a smile trace her lips. “…Our parents were the same. …We knew that they had people they loved, people they missed… but that didn’t stop them from being amazing to us; brave, kind, and helpful.”

“So just like you all, too.” The Baudelaires’ hearts warmed at Isadora’s words, as they made them cry more as well.

There was a moment of silence once more, until Klaus felt Duncan moving, and there was the sound of rustling as he reached into his trousers and pulled out his notebook. He put his arms back around his friend, managing to write in it even during the hug. If any of them had been able to look at where he was writing, they would have seen that he was on the pages filled with the information the Baudelaires had given them in detail about their previous plights, and that he was adding new details about Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire, Uncle Monty, and Aunt Josephine.

“…I’m going to write articles about Montgomery Montgomery and Josephine Anwhistle when we start publishing things. If we can’t… b-bring them back to life, we can at least keep their memory alive, and make sure that everyone knows, and remembers… who they were.”

“……Amare,” Sunny added, so softly that it was barely a whisper, and even though the Quagmires couldn’t understand her language, somehow, they knew what she had to be saying that her brother and sister understood: “And for our parents and sibling, too.”

“…That sounds… r-really nice. ……T-Thank you.” Violet truly meant _thank you, thank you, **thank you** , for your kindness, for your thoughtfulness, for your compassion, for your interest, for your trust, for your sacrifice, for your friendship, for **everything**_ , but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to express this in all the words in the world, so this was all she could manage. Klaus and Sunny felt the same, and the three of them could only hope that the Quagmires realized what she was not saying.

Fortunately, they did.

The Orphans Shack was lit only by the overhead bulb, and was dimmed slightly because of the night, the only sound being that of the skittering crabs attacking their shoes since there was no longer any noise to scare them away. The five children, the Baudelaires and the Quagmires, huddled and lay together in a heap, holding each other, the former resting their aching bodies and exhausted minds, and letting themselves cry. The Baudelaires had wept many times since their misery had first begun, but none of them were as cathartic and emotional as this time, with friends who cried for the same reasons they did, and with them. They were by themselves, with nothing to call their own, with more loss and fears in their hearts that they ever could have imagined, but they had each other, and for the first time, that did not just mean the separate groups of siblings having their brother and sister and sisters, but having their new friends, who understood and could empathize with them. And so that was why, this time, as the Baudelaires wept sorrowfully for their lost parents and guardians, and for the suffering that followed them mercilessly at every turn, eventually, they did not feel so pained, because they were not alone, at least for right now. The Quagmires had given them, and were offering to give them, more than anyone since their parents had, and cared about them, and believed them, and trusted them, and would go so far for their happiness and comfort and safety, and were here crying for them just as much as they were crying for themselves, and in this moment, nothing meant more to the Baudelaires. Every second they passed in quiet, comforting solace in each other they knew was a second they desperately should have been spending getting ready for the plan that would make or break their futures, as well as studying for their tests and making homemade staples, but they couldn’t make themselves move back to it, so tired and grief-filled and in need of comfort as they were. Coach Genghis could wait. After everything he had caused, and might continue to cause, he could at least let them have this.

They lay in the Orphans Shack with each other in this way, that was cold and covered in encrusted fungus and ugly wallpaper and filled with tiny crabs nipping at their bodies, the floor littered with flour and bags and string and fabric and all the other materials they had been arranging, and despite the unpleasantness of the place, right now, like this, it felt less like a shack and more like a home, a sanctuary, and for the first time, since it was all of them together, knowing they were orphans didn’t feel quite as horrible anymore.

“……Maybe we were fated to meet, with how our unfortunate lives began in the same way. Maybe this is a new beginning for us.”

The Baudelaires found themselves thinking that maybe Duncan was right, despite everything.

And for the first time, despite the odds, despite everything the fear in their hearts and their prism of experience told them, the Baudelaires hoped against hope, as they clung to their fated friends and their confidence and love they gave, that just maybe, this time, everything would work out all right after all.


End file.
